Something Good
by YAY Productions
Summary: /SAINW/ Dark Donatello fights Foot Soldiers while his lover gives birth. Oneshot.


Blonde hair stuck tightly to her sweaty forehead. Slowly, she breathed in and out, grimacing. She panted, tightened up, and moaned. And he could do nothing but just sit there and stare. "Love..." He whispered, reaching out for her.

"No!" She flinched, turning away from him. "Please...I need a moment..."

Footsteps below them made him clench his Kamayari. The scythe seemed so impractical at the moment though. If he had a bow he could quietly take the Foot soldiers out one by one.

"Nyah!" She called out, tears pouring down her face. This was all his fault. This was all his fault. This was all his fault. The soldiers were coming to them, scrambling up the rooftop.

The night air crackled with lightning as Donatello stood up. His mask, torn and so dark purple that it seemed black, whipped in the wind. He stood between them and her.

"It's the dark one," They whispered cowardly. There were hesitant to take him on, he had built a reputation for himself. He was a killer in these times. He had to be, to protect what he loved.

"Don...nnn...ie...!" She shrieked, her hands trembling as she held her swollen stomach.

"One moment Em," He needed to be with her. He said he would be with her during this...he had to be. A brave one charge at him, and the others followed suit. He had taken down units three times their size, but this time, it was different. She was at risk more. She couldn't fight, she couldn't hide. She was vulnerable.

He swung his blade, clipping the first man's throat. In swinging his perfect weapon behind him, he brought it back up, cracking the blunt end onto the second one's head sharply. With a detail oriented strike, he bent his angle, and caught another between the legs. Blood poured all around him, and he felt a snarl rising from his throat. He growled, glaring at the final soldiers.

"Hamato Donatello!" Emily's voice rang out to him. He had to watch himself. Don't focus on killing them all. Don't focus on the bloodlust. Just save her.

They are still cowards. They run now. The Shredder no longer trains them like he ought to, but Donatello will not complain.

"Gah!" She cried, and he rushed over to her. He was still listening for his enemy's cronies, but his attention was elsewhere.

She was trying to rip her clothes off. She was freaking getting ready to do this right here and right now. But they couldn't. He had everything ready at his lab, everything was setup, no not here. Anywhere but here in the open. "Honey, not here-"

"Oh yes! Right here, right now!" There was no way around it. He couldn't move her, she wasn't going anywhere.

There was more blood. Her blood. Her tears. Her cries.

Not her cries. They were not her cries.

It was just laying there. Crying. It was crying.

His theory was right. It didn't have an umbilical cord. It took after him. It looked like him. Three fingers. Green skin. Turtle shell. She was small, born early. That would make sense. A human body should not have even been able to conceive a viable embryo, and yet his Emily had. They had both theorized what would happen, but they didn't know. They could only test so far. They didn't know how long she would carry the infant or how developed the child would be. But here she was, crying. Breathing. Trying to disappear into her shell.

He scooped her up very carefully. She so tiny...so naked...so pure in this hell they called home. She could hold her head. She was so well progressed. The genes she had, as a natural born mutant and not a genetically altered animal or human, were perfect. She didn't fall apart like horrors he had seen in his lifetime, such as Timothy. The Pulverizer turned Mutagen Man. He could only shake his head at that.

Emily reached for their daughter. "She's beautiful..." She whispered as her finger stroked soft, downy hair that caressed the baby's head. Big blue eyes blinked up at them, her mouth silent for the moment. She wasn't lying on cold concrete anymore, but safely on the chest of her mouth. She make a suckling motion, and Donatello knew that she would take her mother's milk.

What an odd hybrid. What a beautiful hybrid. What a beautiful baby. Their baby girl. Their daughter created by them.

"I told you so..." Emily whispered. "...I told you we could make something good."

Pulling Emily close to him, Donatello let out a sigh of relief. They weren't an ideal family in an ideal world. They weren't even an ideal family in the world they once knew. But at least they were a family. And he would do anything in his power to keep them safe.


End file.
